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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24148294">Wings AU</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanFicReader01/pseuds/FanFicReader01'>FanFicReader01</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Angels [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Wings, Backstory, Bird Wings, Blizzards &amp; Snowstorms, Childhood, Comfort, Emotional Hurt, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Insect Wings, M/M, Military, Shenanigans, Slice of Life, Tight Spaces, Trans Male Character, Trans! Carlos, Wings, implied suicidal thoughts, will add more tags</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:54:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,559</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24148294</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanFicReader01/pseuds/FanFicReader01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles about the Resident Evil3Remake cast having wings</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Nicholai Ginovaef | Nikolai Zinoviev/Mikhail Victor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Angels [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1726222</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Butterfly</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic will not be 'finished' as there's no overall plot (so far) and most stories will be one shots</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A snippet out of the childhood of Jill.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The playground has been long abandoned by the other kids. And now the rain has started to fall. Endlessly. The little girl sits in the muddy sand, knees chafed and her fragile baby wings bruised as well. She sniffs silently. When will her family finally come pick her up?</p><p>Jill suddenly hears something approach but she doesn’t look up from her hunched over position. The footsteps stop closely behind her. The next thing she notices is how the rain has suddenly stopped falling. When she looks up, a wing is covering her head. Light-brown feathers with black dots and some hint of green-blue shades. The protective wing belongs to a boy with darker skin. He has long curly but shaggy hair that matches the dark tips of his feathers.</p><p> “Who are you?” Jill manages to say. Her sobbing had stopped as suddenly as the rain.</p><p>The boy with the brown eyes smiles. Not only his mouth but even those eyes smile with him. “Name’s Carlos. And I’ll protect you from the rain.”</p><p> Jill cracks a weak smile.</p><p>“You have beautiful wings,” the boy points out.</p><p> “Really? They look so… different from others,” Jill huffs. Some classmates had teased her for having to different kind of wings. One looks more like her father’s: bright yellow with brownish stripes, the other resembles that of her mother: deep blue with black dots and a swallowtail.</p><p> “That makes you special,” Carlos exclaims.</p><p>“At least your wings aren’t so fragile as mine,” Jill adds dissatisfied. The boy kneels down, still making sure his wings protect the girl.</p><p> “Yours look more beautiful though. I have these dull looking feathers. My dad? He has bright green-blue wings. All the ladies like those colours.”</p><p>Jill looks at the boy’s wings again. They’re indeed more desaturated. “Aren’t you supposed to have the same colours then?”</p><p> Carlos bites his lip and starts blushing. “Well, mine look more like my mother’s somehow. But I’m a boy! Of that I’m sure.”</p><p> “I believe you,” Jill chuckles. She gets back up on her feet. Carefully she wriggles her butterfly wings, shaking off the mud.</p><p> “You’re hurt,” Carlos finally notices. He quickly looks around but there are no adults around.</p><p>“My family will come for me, don’t worry,” Jill points out.</p><p>The boy with the feathered wings nods. “Good for you! I’ll wait with you until they’re here!”</p><p>In silence the two sit on a bench nearby until a car drives up to the playground. Jill recognises her father’s car and jumps up. Carlos joins her and she gives him a look.</p><p> “Wait, what about you?”</p><p>“I’ll go back to where I came from,” Carlos reassures the girl.</p><p> “Where to?”</p><p>“The orphanage,” Carlos says.</p><p> “What’s that?” Jill raises a curious eyebrow.</p><p>“That’s where kids go that don’t have parents. But I’ll be alright. See you around!” Carlos waves at her and runs away before she can ask more.</p><p> “See you around, Carlos!” she quickly yells after. She wonders if she’ll ever see him again.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Jill is a gynandromorph who has a 'male' wing and a 'female' butterfly wing.<br/>I like to imagine she got it becos of her mixed heritage.</p><p>Meanwhile Carlos is trans, hence him having 'female' wings that are inspired by the Brazilian duck. That's also why his wings can shield him and others from rain :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Still shot</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Murphy was always too late...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A random, improvised backstory for my boy Murphy.<br/>He has dragonfly wings :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Murphy was the youngest of four brothers. For him, that meant he always lacked behind. Always too late with…well, everything. While his brothers had sprouted wings he still only felt some bumps on his shoulder blades. By the time his own little insectoid wings burst through his back, his brothers were already flying. His wings also were slow with moulting, unlike his brothers who had quickly shed their larvae wings. Once Murphy could finally fly, it took him more time to get used to it than expected. He had four wings that he should control independently but that was a harder task than he’d thought. His father often gave him disappointed looks when the boy accidentally flew into a hay bale on the training field.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>By the time he joined the Marines, his older brothers had already joined the army and they’d already lost one to a war, somewhere far away. But wanting to make his father proud, Murphy joined nonetheless, ignoring the pleas of his mother.</p><p>The army was a tough place to be. Especially for Murphy, who was more reserved and preferred solitude or intimate company over big, generic crowds. However, the army also toughened him up, made him a man like his father wanted him to be. The army taught him how to master his flight and use those dragonfly-like wings to the best of his capacity. During his training Murphy quickly realised he had a talent for sniping which the army profited from.</p><p> </p><p>However, Murphy still remembered his first real target. They were at sea, actually. He was wearing special camouflage attires and was deployed from the highest spot of the ship. He let his forewings beat a 180° out of phase with the hindwings that allowed him to hover almost motionless in the sky. The rifle weighed heavily in his hands. It was customised for flight snipers in such way they could keep the weapon still even in mid-air.</p><p> Murphy spotted his target quicker than expected. Poor bastard seemed to lack any wings. No bird ones, no insect ones.</p><p> The young sniper aimed. His heart beat faster than ever before. Sweat dripped down his neck. His hands got clammy and he was grateful for wearing gloves or else that heavy rifle would’ve slipped from his hands.</p><p> <em>You can do this</em>. <em>This is the enemy</em>.</p><p>Murphy held his breath. His finger had never pulled the trigger so slowly or so it just seemed. The bullet swished through the air. Through his filtered lens, Murphy watched as his target dropped dead to the ground, a puddle of red blooming out of the head.</p><p>Quickly he flew back on deck. He sheepishly laughed at his teammates who immediately congratulated him on a job well done. When no one was watching, he went to the restroom and puked into a toilet.</p><p>But it got easier. To take lives. As long as he didn’t have to kill people up close, as long as he could do it through the  scope of his now trustworthy sniper rifle.</p><p>Somehow the weapon not gave him only a literal distance from the act but also a metaphorical one.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Murphy was always too late. After his time in the army was over, he returned home. His mother sat in the kitchen, not meeting her son’s confused eyes. His father was also quiet. He didn’t even ask about his son’s reports or if he had done well with the marines. That was truly a bummer. All this time he wanted his father’s approval and now that he basically got home with shiny ‘grades’, his father ignored him. But his parents’ neglect didn’t hit as hard as the news he was informed of later that day.</p><p>His brothers who had returned home earlier, as they always did, were killed by a street gang.</p><p>Murphy knew those bastards. The ones that made the neighbourhoods unsafe to walk in at night. The bastards who had tried to sell him and his friend drugs when they were merely twelve.</p><p> </p><p>He couldn’t recall much from the day that followed. In the back of his hazy memory he knew that he’d bought new ammo with the money he’d required from his army service. He then located the gang’s hideout and stalked them at night. He had flown high up in the sky and readied his rifle. He hadn’t even counted his ammo, he just knew he’d bought enough.</p><p>He had never pulled the trigger that easily. One shot after another. All lethal headshots. One by one the bastards dropped like pathetic bags of shit. Murphy used the perks of having four independently moving wings to quickly navigate through the air, quickly flying upward, downward and to the left and right. No gang member would survive. Not if he was still alive and trigger-happy.</p><p> </p><p>The next thing he remembered was his hands being cuffed, a glass wall separating him from his father. His mother was there as well but avoided his gaze. But he could hear her cry.</p><p>Murphy wanted to say that it was a mistake. That he didn’t know what he was doing. And that was only half right. He had acted out of blind anger, frustration. He wanted those people dead. But he didn’t’ want his parents to be frowned upon by others, he didn’t’ want to hurt <em>them</em>. Shit.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>He was going to rot away in jail. Once the bars closed behind him, he realised he would be stuck there forever. Despair washed over him. This place was so much different, and worse than the army. When some inmates teased and bullied him for his fragile insectoid wings, it was like he was back in elementary school where all kids with wings from birds of prey had mocked him too.</p><p>Suddenly, his old, shy self pierced through the walls he thought he’d build around himself. Murphy felt miserable. But his desperateness to clutch onto life was stronger than the piece of broken mirror he had held in his hand one day.</p><p>A few days later he was given a second chance by some corporation that dubbed themselves Umbrella. Maybe for once, he wasn’t too late.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I like to think that Murphy is kind of a good guy but badly shaped through his youth. Although the army has 'toughened' him up, that shell/facade can easily break in the right (or rather wrong) circumstances :P</p><p>I have no idea how canon some of the things I mentioned are, there's not much info on the RE wiki (where I get most of my info lmao). But well, fanon exists for a reason and I randomly got motivated to fill in some gaps for Murphy's backstory ^^</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Snow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The UBCS crew has a rare moment of rest. Memories are brought up.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The group sits around the campfire, all wrapped up in heavy but warm coats. Carlos is clearly shivering. Murphy and Tyrell also seem to be cold fish. The sight of otherwise tough mercenaries trembling like leaves amuses their Captain.</p><p> “What?” Carlos huffs.</p><p>“Nothing,” Captain Victor says, suppressing a chuckle.</p><p>The Russian Sergeant thuds down at the campfire as well. He drapes himself in his large, dark grey-brown wings and lets out an audible laugh. “It means he thinks you are cowards.”</p><p> “It’s cold. Look you’re wrapped up as well,” Murphy snorts. A cold glare from the vulture-like Russian makes the younger merc shut up immediately.</p><p> “This cold is merely a breeze,” Nikolai smirks. To add weight to his words, he unwraps his wings, resting them behind his back. “In one of our earlier missions for the UBCS we’ve known <em>real</em> cold.”</p><p> Captain Victor affirmingly nods. “Yes. Even colder than Russian winters.” His eyes stare into the fire. The caramel pigment around his eyes get accentuated by the orange flames.</p><p> “It also reminds me: Nikolai here, can be a softy too.”</p><p>“<em>Don’t</em>,” the Sergeant hisses. He needs a reputation to uphold, damn it! He avoids the eye of his subordinates and only glares at the older Russian who doesn’t give him the pleasure of an eye-staring contest.</p><p> “Good. That will be another story then. What you guys have to take away from that mission, is that we got stuck in big blizzard. Two weeks. Without much rations left. We had to survive on insects and mainly raw meat.”</p><p> “And bones,” Nikolai adds with a smirk.</p><p>“Yes, you were lucky you could digest those things,” Mikhail huffs.</p><p>“Damn, sounds tough,” Carlos mutters under his breath, shuffling his wings in condolence.</p><p>The Captain smirks. As the flames lick higher to the sky, he thinks back to that mission.</p><p> </p><p><em>An unforeseen snow avalanche had</em> <em>separated Mikhail and Nikolai from the other team members. Nikolai was sure they had died, drowned in the massive snow waves.  However, Mikhail had dived back to the still hurdling avalanche. Nikolai thought it was a stupid suicide mission so he made a leap of faith himself, catching the older Russian by one of his wings that were desperately beating.</em></p><p>
  <em> “It’s too late,” the younger man snarled.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Mikhail gasped and threw the other soldier a sneer. “They are now, yes!”</em>
</p><p><em> “You couldn’t have saved them. </em> <em>это было проигранное дело</em> <em>,” Nikolai insisted. With one final look at the destructive nature beneath them, Mikhail flew after the other man to a safer spot, higher up in the mountains. There was a small cave where they settled. Most of their gear had been lost to the avalanche. They had to do with the one sleeping bag and some small tools and one little cooking pot that were left.</em></p><p>
  <em> “This is ridiculous,” Nikolai huffed but was willing to make the best out of the situation. The situation, however, wasn’t on their side. Around the evening a snow storm hit the mountains. Even their little cave couldn’t shelter them from nature’s brutal forces.</em>
</p><p><em> “Nikolai, we have to stay warm </em>together<em>,” Mikhail had opted but the other Russian kept telling himself that he had enough heat in his own body.</em></p><p>
  <em> “Here I thought I was the stubborn one,” the Captain snorted but with a light-hearted chuckle.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>On their third day stuck in the mountains, held hostage by nature herself, Nikolai realised he would definitely freeze to death if he wouldn’t seek solace by the other soldier. Reluctantly he shuffled closer to the older man. Mikhail opened his eyes and amused but silently he watched the younger man get closer. In response, he opened up one of his white and brown wings and let Nikolai snuggle up against him. A part of their feathers entwined.<br/>
</em>
</p><p>
  <em> “There you go, Kolya,” he muttered.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>In any other circumstance, Nikolai would’ve grumbled, would’ve felt belittled but now it was somehow comforting. It reminded him of the forbidden memory of being cradled in his mother’s arms and wings. A fleeting memory swallowed in the cold night. Mikhail’s feathers were much different from Nikolai’s. These were truly build for the winter. They definitely managed to keep some of the cold outside.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>When Nikolai opened his eyes and looked up to the older man, he could see, even in the darkness, that the man’s neck feathers had suddenly become puffier. They looked more vivid than ever. Meanwhile, he could feel some of the frost in his own neck feathers melt through the shared body heat.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Maybe this position wasn’t that bad after all. While the snowstorm raged on that night, Nikolai could close his eyes and sleep effortlessly. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Это проигранное дело = It's a lost case</p><p>Mikhail has traits of a Barn owl. The colour of his wings are also great camouflage in snowy and grey areas. Seen from below, he will easily blend in with the landscape.<br/>Next to that, he has one of the most silent wings to fly with, so for stealth missions that's super convenient as well!<br/>Nikolai has the wings of a Bearded vulture.<br/>Some people will inherit some traits from the animal their wings are based off! Hence why they are lucky to have protective/warming neck feathers :3 Mikhal has night vision and doesn't need special night visors<br/>Also, Nikolai is capable to eat bones like the bearded vulture. That perk he not only uses for survival but also to intimidate foes and teammates alike &gt;:)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The new recruits</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The UBCS has some new soldiers rolling in.<br/>Carlos is one of them</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So... initially this was the 'first' chapter of this 'story'. Until it didn't go as planned so now it's the 4th drabble :P<br/>I'd say it's a 'prequel' to the previous chapter, chronology-wise.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sound of boots rubbing over the steel floor and the shuffling of various wings fill the otherwise silent barracks. All new soldiers are on roll call today, waiting for further inspection and training.</p><p>Carlos stands among them in line, nervous. Most of these guys have beautiful wings: big and often colourful as well. His own rufous brown and black coloured feathers suddenly look a lot duller in comparison to others here. Almost ashamed, he keeps them tightly folded on his back. Right next to him stands a soldier with thick olive-green and yellowish elytra. Those forewings must be great shields, making them valuable in any combat situation. The taller man notices Carlos staring and throws him a look.</p><p> “What you looking at?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Carlos quickly retorts despite the other man’s tone not being hostile. He lets his eyes stare at the floor instead.</p><p> “Okay, sure. Name’s Tyrell. What’s yours?”</p><p>“Carlos. Carlos Oliveira.”</p><p>Then the guy on Carlos’ left speaks up. He’s even taller than him or Tyrell. In the ill-lit barracks, Carlos can’t make up the man’s wings or if he even has them. Some people are just unlucky and have no wings. “I’m Murphy. So what got you two in here at Umbrella?” Just as Carlos is about to reply, a door gets slammed open and Murphy’s face goes pale as if he’s seen a ghost.</p><p> “T-those are our team leaders,” the man hisses. He must’ve had a bad run-in with them if he acts so panicked.</p><p>First a man not that much taller than Carlos steps into the building. He wears a captain’s beret and grey attires that match his greying beard and the long, swift white wings that follow. They’re top of his feathers are covered in shades of brown that vary from deep dark, almost reddish brown to a light caramel like brown, freckled in white dots. The man carries himself with a compact stance, wings following in a controlled manner as he called everyone to attention. He has a clear, Russian accent.</p><p>Right behind him, follows a taller man with silver hair, cut short. He wears a scowl with a deep frown. A pair of large, dark grey wings make the soldier look even taller than he already is. When Carlos gets a better look at the two soldiers, he notices that the small man has some brownish pigment around his eyes and the tall man has a toothpick made of bone between his lips.</p><p> “My name is Mikhail Victor. I will be your Captain from now on. Next to me is Sergeant Zinoviev. Together with me he’ll look after you and make sure you train well and prove yourselves to be of irreplaceable value among our ranks at Umbrella.”</p><p> “Everyone who falls out of the boat is welcome to drown…unless you know how to swim,” Sergeant Zinoviev adds with a sadistic smirk. He takes out some document and starts to check off names.</p><p> “When your name is called, you take a few steps forward, state your full name and relevant business.”</p><p>Carlos is getting sweaty. He hopes his voice won’t fail him or worse, crack. While Captain Victor continues calling the people, Carlos is trying to see what other soldiers he’s going to work with. Most of them are tall and bulky men. As expected of course.</p><p> “Oliveira!”</p><p>“Present! Carlos Oliveira, nineteen years old. Recommended as heavy weapon specialist!” He tries to reply as quickly as possible. He feels the gloat of the Sergeant on him. Is that a smirk? Just as the tall Russian ticks off his name and Carlos is about to step back in line, some soldier at the far back yells: “What’s a <em>female</em> doing here?”</p><p>More eyes are now on Carlos and his heart beat goes all the way up. Sweat forms in his balled fists and in his neck. Shit, shit, <em>shit</em>! But before he can come up with a reply, it is Sergeant Zinoviev who takes action. With a quick strut he is over at the other soldier, standing face to face. Carlos had never seen someone use their wings in such threatening way as the Sergeant right now. Lifting them more above his head and tilting them forward, almost swallowing the smaller soldier whole.</p><p> “If you have a problem with another <em>male</em> soldier, you address those problems to <em>me</em> personally,” Zinoviev’s voice is calm but intimidating nonetheless.</p><p> “But those wings are fe-”</p><p>“Those wings will grant <em>him</em> a great camouflage. Unlike your own target popping coloured wings that will need dyeing,” Zinoviev hisses. “Besides, my reports on Oliveira have nothing but praise marked over them. So unless you got something useful to say or critique, no word of any of you unless asked!”</p><p>Without a proper response from the soldier, the Sergeant peers back at him. “Did I make myself clear, soldier?” He bites down on his toothpick, easily crushing it between his teeth. The young soldier nods, fully trembling. “Sir, yes, sir!”</p><p> “Well then. Oliveira, get back in line,” the Sergeant then commands in a lower voice.</p><p>Carlos quickly nods and blends in with the rest again. His heart is still racing and it isn’t until the two commanders are out of the building that he can breathe easily.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Tyrell has the strong wings of a hercules beetle, that will grant him great shield protection.<br/>Also Nikolai literally doesn't give a shit about what's in your pants xD If you can fight and stand your own, you're welcome (as far as nice goes with this man) in his team :P</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Take flight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A short drabble about Brad. I'm really out here, writing for the side &amp; minor characters xD</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As a kid, Brad had always looked up to the winged people. Besides the obvious perk of flight, most wings also looked gorgeous. From the fluffy feathers to the bright colours of insectoid wings. His family had a few people with bug wings but he never got any. He had hoped they’d sprout later but it just didn’t happen. He remained one of the few humans without. So as a kid he’d tried to make wings of his own. Paper ones sadly didn’t do it. And even in secondary school, where he took technology classes, he didn’t have enough knowledge or resources to build his own wings. Eventually he just gave up and started studying IT. As he was doing research on airplanes for his paper, he realised something. He might not be able to fly with wings, but he could reach for something close to that. And so he decided to take pilot classes after he’d be done studying. Alongside his normal college, Brad started training as a helicopter pilot.</p><p> </p><p>Nowadays he takes pride in his job at the RPD. He works for them as a tech guy but also gets to fly some of its members around with his helicopter. During lunch, he meets a new member. It’s a woman with extraordinary butterfly wings. Each wing looks distinctively different.</p><p> “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before,” he starts out awkwardly.</p><p>The woman smiles. “I’m Jill. And yes, I got here two days ago.”</p><p> “My name’s Brad. Brad Vickers. I’m the team’s pilot,” he introduces himself.</p><p>Jill looks questioning. “The pilot? Is that helicopter yours?”</p><p> “Yes. Well, not really. It’s from the S.T.A.R.S. department actually. But I’m the only one here who knows how to operate such thing,” Brad explains. “You okay if I join you for lunch?”</p><p> “Sure,” Jill nods and she puts out a chair for him. Both people have lunchboxes from their home.</p><p>They have some casual banter and Jill confesses to him that he, next to Chris, is one of the few guys she feels genuinely at ease by. Brad takes that as a compliment and tries his best not to ruin that reputation.</p><p> </p><p>Their relationship grows over the next couple of weeks. Although they do not see each other much during the day, they will often have lunch together with Chris. When Brad heard about Jill’s promotion into the S.T.A.R.S. team, he’s the first to suggest a small party for the woman.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>The mission seems to take forever and Brad is getting nervous. He’s stationed the helicopter a few kilometres away from the place of delict so it would take the team a few minutes to reach him anyway. But still. It doesn’t leave him relaxed. Should there be a distress signal from the radio, it’s up to Brad to quickly fly to his team and get them to safety. While he is going through his usual check-up routine, his back is itching like crazy. He should’ve put on a T-shirt. Not a hoodie. It’s way too hot in the thing and the sun is shining relentlessly onto him. Without the protection of the nearby woods, he’s at the mercy of the weather. Frustrated he takes off his vest. One clothing piece less. Still, somehow he feels bloated. As if his hoodie just became smaller. He swore he hadn’t tried to snack as much.</p><p>To distract himself, he looks into the small cool box. There’s a few bottles of water in there. More than enough for the entire team. He grabs one and screws off the cap. The cold liquid is a nice welcome to his dry throat. He should relax.</p><p>The S.T.A.R.S. members can handle this. By the time the pilot has managed to calm down, he gets a signal. It’s Jill. Their mission had been a success and he’s advised to prepare the chopper for take-off. An half hour later his team members come into sight. Brad lets out a relieved sigh.</p><p> “Good to see you all back in one piece,” he says with a smile.</p><p>While everybody is getting into the chopper, Jill notices something. “Something wrong, Jill?” Brad worries.</p><p> “Is this yours?” the woman points at the grass below. A great amount of skin shed flakes is piled up.</p><p>Brad nervously scratches his back and realises why he was feeling so bloated. His back is calloused, harsh. It also explains why he’d been so itchy the whole time.</p><p> “I’m shedding,” he stammers.</p><p>When he looks at Jill, she has a hand in front of her mouth. “You’re getting wings!” Before he can revel in that fact, Brad has to fly them back to base. As soon as everyone’s on the ground again, he rushes to the restroom. He takes off his hoodie and now touches the two bumps on his back. He can’t help but tear up a little. After all this time!</p><p> </p><p>The following day, Jill gives him a special card: <em>Congratz on the wings! </em><em>😊</em></p><p> “Do you know what kind of wings it will be?” she asks him during their break.</p><p>“Probably ladybug like. My grandparents had them, black coloured. And their parents too. My sister has red wings with black dots,” Brad nods.</p><p> “Cute. Looking forward to it then,” Jill smiles.</p><p>“Oh man. Now I can finally put those children info books to use,” Brad laughs. His parents had given him this guide about wings. The how’s and do’s and don’ts for when you grow them. Of course, Brad could never put the tips into practice but now he’s sure to reread those books thoroughly.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Brad got yellow ladybug wings with black dots to match his canon vest :D<br/>I also think the insect I chose matches his more shy and reserved character xD</p><p>Him initially not having wings and thus becoming a helicopter pilot seemed like a fun take on why he became a pilot hhuhuh</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Bone Crusher</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Sleep, little one</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sleep tightly and covered in blankets</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Hush, little one</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And don’t make a sound</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Or you will be found</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Found by the one they call the Bone Crusher</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A man, a beast.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A bit of both he is</em>
</p><p>
  <em>With enormous wings he takes flight</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Into the endless night</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Darkness rests in his heart and eyes</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wherever he goes, someone dies</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Your bones he will cripple</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Your body he will ripple </em>
</p><p>
  <em>You will bleed</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And your raw flesh he will eat</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>So hush now, little one</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sleep deep</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And don’t make a sound</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Or the Bone Crusher will get you</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, that’s pretty fucked up,” Carlos snorts as he observes the little piece of paper pinned on Nikolai’s wall. He shudders, his wings trembling with him.</p><p> “What? I like it. It’s what my mother used to sing to me when I was little,” the Russian merc confesses with a smirk.</p><p> “Do all mothers like to traumatize their kids with creepy lullabies?” the younger soldier huffs. Not that he can relate to a mother, but the caretakers at the orphanage often told them scary stories too in order to make them behave.</p><p> “Guess it’s one way to make your kids behave,” the young man sarcastically rolls his eyes.</p><p>Nikolai steps up from his bed and walks over to the wall, against which he then leans. Carlos stares at the tall man. Enormous wings to take flight. A certain darkness in his red eyes.</p><p> “I didn’t take it as a warning, though,” Nikolai sniggers.</p><p>Carlos gives him a puzzled look so the Russian decides to elaborate for once. “To me, the lullaby told me what I could <em>become</em>. The potential I had.”</p><p> “To be… a monster?” the younger merc peers and Nikolai simply nods.</p><p>“Something to be feared, be intimidated by. Did you not realise that this lullaby is directly inspired by Bearded Vultures and the people who inherit some of their traits??”</p><p> “I guess,” Carlos crosses his arms and reads over the words again. “But those stories don’t paint you in a positive light?”</p><p> “I do not mind. Tell someone they’re a monster over and over and they’ll become one. Me? I actively chose to become one and I take pride in that,” Nikolai speaks with a certain nonchalance. He detaches himself from the wall and shoos the younger man out of the room. “But enough talk. You got what you came for.”</p><p> “Wait, Nikolai-,” Carlos protests.</p><p>“Out, <em>Oliveira</em>.” The taller man pushes him out of the room and blocks the door with his own body. With an devilish smirk and wink he adds: “Or the Bone Crusher will get you.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I like to think that in this AU, some people in the old days weren't really sure about what bearded vultures and their human 'counter parts' were and thus they came up with some creepy lullaby to put their kids to sleep.</p><p>It has definitely sparked some fear toward humans with vulture wings and traits. But as Nikolai is Nikolai, I can see him use that fear and prejudice in his advantage and revel in the bad reputation he has &gt;:)</p><p>Originally I thought to make this specifically about him but that wouldn't make sense universe wise xD So I decided to 'generalize' it to be some local folklore/lullaby. Mikhail definitely knows about this lullaby too, as his mother has probably sung it to him as well!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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